


Never Truly Prepared

by tveckling



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Fluff, M/M, Mercutio and Valentine are identical twins, Sweet, Takes place over ten years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 15:19:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6334111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tveckling/pseuds/tveckling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 'what if' fic where Valentine is Mercutio's twin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Truly Prepared

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ambrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambrose/gifts), [SosearchingRomeo (Breakingthestandards)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Breakingthestandards/gifts).



> Written for a comment by Ambrose, so blame her. Neither of us expected this to become this long though.  
> Sorry about the summary..... I hate writing summaries.

Many remembered the year that the nine year old twins came to Verona as the start of a merciless reign of chaos. The Prince had sent for his nephews to come to the city as his heirs, since it seemed less and less likely that he would get any children of his own, and his sister had sent her two sons with not so much as a letter of warning to her brother. It was generally considered that the boys took after their mother in both looks and personality, and the older generation tried to keep a wide berth of the twins.

Mercutio was the older of the two, ten whole minutes older, as he often liked to declare. He liked to make jokes that caused others to blush furiously, climb walls, and his swordsmanship lessons. Valentine, on the other hand, used sarcasm as the root of his jokes, and where his brother seemed to believe he'd die if he stayed still for any longer period of time Valentine was quite happy to spend an afternoon reading in the library or focusing on his studies. They were both equally fond of mischief, however, and with the same red hair, blue eyes, and quick smile it was impossible to see who was who. The only one in Verona who did manage to tell them apart at sight was the Prince, but the twins only saw it as a challenge.

Their latest experience had the Prince calling them into his office, where he sighed heavily when he saw them. "Whose idea was it and what in the world made you think this was a good idea?"

Mercutio widened his eyes to look sufficiently surprised and innocent. "What do you mean? What happened? We've been in our room the entire morning, and I haven't heard about anything happening. Have you, Cutio?"

Valentine shook his head with a furrowed brow. "I haven't, Val. Maybe it's something with the servants?"

The Prince looked unimpressed at the two of them. "This is another try to make me mistake the two of you. Mercutio's idea, I guess?"

Valentine gasped and put his hand on his chest. "I have done nothing, uncle!"

"Valentine, stop pretending to be your brother." The Prince only shook his head and ignored the identical pouts being directed his way. "You will both apologize to the nurse for taking her belongings, and then you will run errands for her the rest of the day as punishment. And I hope that you will stop with these foolish actions. I don't want to think of what you'll come up with next."

Faced with identical grins full of mischief the Prince hurriedly sent them on their way. Even if they had to obey the nurse for a whole day, they had plenty of ideas how to make it as worthwhile as possible. If they were running errands they could use it as an excuse to go places they weren't normally welcomed, like the kitchen. The chefs had to be working on the evening's dinner, and there was sure to be delicious things to make disappear.

They both agreed it had been a good try, even if they hadn't succeeded in fooling their uncle. At least now they knew that he could tell them apart even if they didn't have hair, and it would only take a few months before it grew out again. They had already tried exchanging wardrobe, which also didn't work. It was clear they had to up their game.

 

\-----

 

Normally the ten year old boys would be followed by at least one servant wherever they went, but there wasn't anyone capable of keeping up with them. In the beginning Mercutio and Valentine had liked the feeling of having someone following them, but they had tired of it within weeks. It was barely a challenge for them to shake off their tail, but the Prince was just as stubborn and kept sending people to watch the twins. Once he'd even sent a guard, and Mercutio and Valentine had had hours of fun as they rushed ahead in different locations, forcing the man to run after one of them, only for the other to show up in the corner of his eyesight and get his attention. It was easy when you knew every nook and cranny of the city.

So it wasn't strange to see the two of them walking idly through the city, all by themselves. The twins' red hair had grown out in full, and by their own wishes the lengths and cuts were identical—all the better to fool everyone else. The only way to separate them was through their clothes, and it was far from unheard of the two slinking away and changing clothing. All the people working in the palace had stopped trying to figure out who was who, especially since they were always together. No matter how they tried, however, they still hadn't managed to fool their uncle. One day, they told each other, one day they would succeed.

Until then they were satisfied with tricking everyone else. One of their favorite things to do was to go to the bakery not far from the palace and beg for sweets from the kind, grandmotherly woman there; they made sure to avoid her son, the hot-tempered baker who had a grudge against them ever since he first discovered they were twins after they had come twice to pick up a single order. The woman they affectionately had dubbed their 'grandmother' only smiled and fussed over them, even if she did pinch their cheeks. Valentine insisted she always did it with a twinkle in her eyes, and she did give them extra if they didn't protest or squirm.

That morning they had gotten a whole bag of sweets, and they were determined to eat it all up before going back to the palace, even if they weren't quite sure how to do it. It was a challenge they were happy to accept, however, and in the hour that had gone since they'd gotten it they had managed to eat a quarter of the bag's contents. Unfortunately eating so much in such a short time had left them both groaning, and they had decided to take a strengthening break under a statue's looming shade.

It was there that they saw a boy they age tripping over a stone and, clearly by accident, falling into a man who was inspecting wares, knocking them both to the ground. From where they sat they could hear the man curse and threaten the boy, who looked on with big, terrified eyes. There was no physical attack, but when he walked away the boy looked like he'd been badly beaten, and Mercutio and Valentine looked at each other with similar frowns.

"Could that man be Giusto Savona?" Mercutio asked in an idle tone, and rose from his position.

"Clear as the day, I saw his face. It was none other than Giusto Savona," Valentine answered as he too got to his feet.

"An honorable man, they say, and what was he doing?" Mercutio swung the paper bag in his hand as they walked towards the boy, who was now standing up and dusting himself off, trying to look like nothing had happened.

"A respectable man, they say, and yet he was abusing a child in plain sight." Valentine hooked his arm into Mercutio's, and they turned to each other with identical grins.

"This cannot be allowed to stand. I say we teach this so-called honorable fool a lesson." They were nearing the boy, who had noticed them and was giving them a curious look. Their grins only widened.

"I wholeheartedly agree with your idea. I happen to know where his shop is, and where he keeps his most expensive merchandise." Valentine turned to Mercutio again as they stopped in front of the boy.

"How heavy his heart must become should an accident befall them, don't you think, Valentine?"

"I definitely do, Mercutio. And accidents are so common these days."

They nodded to each other and turned to the boy as one, and Valentine snorted as the boy jumped. Mercutio held out the bag with a grin. "Candy?"

In the spirit of revenge a friendship was made, and a few hours later the screams of Giusto Savona could be heard several streets away. The bubbling laughter from three boys, as they ran to their hiding place, were easily missed. Their plan had gone without a hitch, and even if the merchant Savona would never find out how or why the accident had happened, the trio knew and they were all delighted. From that day the twins had a steadfast companion in the Montague named Benvolio, who would often bring his younger cousin Romeo with him when he went to visit Mercutio and Valentine.

Those hoping the boy would have a calming effect on the Escalus twins quickly had their hopes crushed.

 

\-----

 

It was a rare sight, to see one of the Prince's nephews without the other close by, and Mercutio was aware of it. The times he and Valentine were separated for longer periods of time made both of them antsy, and neither liked it. They were meant to be together, it was as simple as that, and they had never spent more than a handful of hours apart at one time. Anyone who insisted otherwise simply didn't know anything, and so didn't say anything worth listening to.

A few hours apart was okay, though, and Mercutio hadn't even started feeling any of the longing after his other half as he walked with Benvolio by his side. While Benvolio had acted as decoy Mercutio had grabbed a few apples, and far from the stall they were happily munching on their spoils. Valentine was busy with his lessons, something boring about history Mercutio thought, but he would join them as soon as he was done. Romeo was entertaining a guest, something Benvolio had been excused from—he was deeply thankful for it.

"This isn't good, though, you know." Benvolio frowned as he looked down on his half-eaten apple. Mercutio glanced at him with utter confusion. They were sitting on the stone edge of a fountain, enjoying the food while people passed by.

"What isn't?" he asked through a mouthful of apple. Benvolio wrinkled his nose, and Mercutio rolled his eyes but chewed and swallowed, opening his mouth wide to show that there wasn't any food left.

"This. Stealing. It's not good, and we shouldn't do it again." Benvolio threw his apple in the water behind him and pulled up his legs to his chin.

It was Mercutio's turn to frown. "If you didn't want that you could have given it to me instead of throwing it away. What a waste..." He huffed and crossed his arms, taking another bite of his own apple as he thought. "Stealing isn't good, that's true. But you know, that merchant, the one we took the apples from, he's not a good person. His prices are too high, and he's cruel to anyone who works with him, and I've overheard that he's a ruthless businessman too. So, I don't think there's any problem with stealing from him. He deserves it. Doesn't he?"

Benvolio thought hard. "I guess. Maybe. But stealing is still bad, even if it's from a bad person. My parents both say so, and all the priests do too!"

"Yeah, well, my mom taught me to not listen too much to the church," Mercutio said with a sneer. "There are a lot of horrible people in there, and greedy and selfish ones as well, and you don't know which sort you're talking to, so you shouldn't talk to any of them more than you have to, she said. And I agree with her. I don't like any priest or monk or friar or anyone."

"That's just because they reprimand you for all your pranks." Benvolio sniggered, but then his expression fell and he stood up quickly. Mercutio looked at him curiously and turned to see what he was looking at.

It was three boys their age, all of them glaring at Benvolio, and Mercutio studied them as they came closer. Benvolio stood with his arms crossed, and even though he tried to keep it from showing Mercutio could tell he was nervous. That was enough to raise Mercutio's hackles, and he was frowning lightly as the boys stopped a few feet away.

"What do you want, Tybalt?" Benvolio asked in a tight voice.

The tallest of the three crossed his arms too, glancing quickly at Mercutio before he focused on Benvolio with a sneer. "You're in my spot, Montague. Move."

Mercutio snorted and leaned forward. The attention had all shifted to him. "'Your spot', really? And who are you, to make such a bold claim?"

"I'm Tybalt Capulet," the boy answered, and Mercutio understood the situation. The feud between the Capulets and Montagues was common knowledge, especially in the palace where it gave his uncle plenty of headaches, and he had heard plenty about it. Mercutio had met plenty of adults from the two families, but it was the first time he met any of the youths from the Capulet house. So far he wasn't impressed.

"And I'm Mercutio Escalus." It warmed him to see the three boys all stiffen at his name, even if Tybalt recovered the quickest and tried to act nonchalant. "I've sat here with Benvolio for a long time now, and I swear we would have noticed if there was any sign naming this a Capulet's property or land. Maybe I missed it, though, so I welcome you to point it out for me, and then we'll leave immediately." He finished with a sunny smile, to which he only received a dark glare.

"If you're the Prince's kin you should know better than to be around people like him," Tybalt said and nodded his head towards Benvolio. "That family is only a den of liars and thieves, and he is no better."

Benvolio's fists tightened and he glared hard. Mercutio's smile had also disappeared, and he stood up to take a step closer to Tybalt. "Benvolio is my friend, and I will not have you insult him without cause. Apologize or prepare to be beaten into the ground."

Tybalt took a step closer too, staring at Mercutio. He was a good while taller, Mercutio noted, and for some reason it pissed him off. "And if I don't apologize, who's going to beat me? You, with your scrawny arms? That coward behind your back who has never fought a fight in his life? Don’t be stupid, this isn't going to work for you. You're outnumbered."

"Cutio will definitely fight you, and I'll be happy to fight one of your little friends. If anyone's looking scared it's them."

Once again Mercutio was warmed to his core from seeing the shocked faces from the Capulet boys as they jumped at the sudden voice. Mercutio grinned widely at Tybalt as he looked from Mercutio to Valentine—who was wearing the same grin as Mercutio, and mimicked his stance exactly—and then back again. One look between Mercutio and Valentine was all that was needed, and then they attacked one boy each. Mercutio had a vicious sense of satisfaction as he pushed Tybalt down into the ground. Teach him to insult one of Mercutio's friends.

Even though their uncle's angry lecture lasted for over half an hour, and they were forbidden from leaving the palace grounds for a week, Mercutio and Valentine were satisfied in their knowledge of having won the fight. They might both be covered in bruises, but the Capulet boys had it much worse, and Mercutio had enjoyed watching Tybalt limp away. He had a feeling they had a new nemesis, and he would enjoy it.

 

\-----

 

At the age of thirteen Mercutio and Valentine had decided there was nothing more in Verona herself to discover, so they turned their full attention to the people living in the city. The complaints about their activities and mischief were coming in to the Prince's office non-stop, and there wasn't a day without him having a stern conversation with his nephews. No punishment or threatening or begging seemed to work on them, however, and the talks were only for the Prince to show that he hadn't forgotten about them and that he knew what they were up to. His silent disapproval did help in dissuading them from pulling any vicious retributions to those who told on them, even if he himself wasn't aware of it.

Their latest prank, focused on causing as much public humiliation as possible to a certain Capulet, had made the Prince so angry that Mercutio and Valentine had decided they'd lie low for a while. That, of course, meant that they were spending all their free time with Benvolio and Romeo, who at eleven years old was allowed to roam as he wanted, as long as his cousin was with him. With Benvolio keeping a strict eye on the twins to make sure they didn't do anything they weren't supposed to do—not too obviously at least—there really wasn't much to do other than roam the city.

In their boredom Mercutio and Valentine turned to their easiest victim.

"Hey, Val, don’t you think Romeo has such adorable, chubby cheeks?" Valentine turned to Mercutio, who pursed his lips and studied Romeo carefully. Benvolio had gone away to buy them all something to munch on, and the rest of them were lazing around on some steps.

"You’re absolutely right. They’re just begging to be pinched." Mercutio’s hand moved closer to Romeo’s face, but Romeo slapped his hands over his cheeks and glared at the two of them.

"Stop it! I’m not letting you do that again, it hurt so bad last time. And I didn’t even get any candy, even though you promised!"

"We never said when you’d get the goods, did we, Cutio?" Mercutio turned big eyes towards Valentine, who looked just as innocent.

"I’m sure I would have remembered it if we did."

Romeo didn’t lower his hands and he kept looking at Mercutio and Valentine with narrowed eyes. "You’re trying to trick me, aren’t you? Pretending to be each other? I’m not falling for it!"

Mercutio frowned deeply, with a disapproving look, as he faced Romeo. "What are you talking about, Romeo? I’m Valentine, can’t you see that?"

"Now, now, Val, take it easy on the boy." Valentine threw an arm around Mercutio’s shoulder and winked at Romeo. "I’m sure he’s just trying to play with us."

"No, I’m not. You’re the ones playing around! Stop it already!" Romeo glared as hard as he could—which admittedly only made the twins want to coo and hug him, he was too adorable—and crossed his arms. "You won’t fool me this time, I know that you’re Mercutio—" he pointed at Mercutio "—and you’re Valentine." He pointed at Valentine.

Mercutio and Valentine looked at each other with uneasy expressions. "Maybe he hit his head?" Valentine asked in a low voice.

Mercutio shook his head and turned back to Romeo. "Romeo, please stop playing around. All this is doing is making us feel hurt, that you can’t even tell us apart. We know who we are better than you do, don’t you agree?"

"But- but I knew…" Romeo’s lip began to quiver and his eyes filled with tears. "I don’t want to hurt you. I’m sorry."

Mercutio and Valentine stiffened as the tears began rolling down Romeo’s cheeks and he sniffed miserable. Valentine looked at Mercutio with an alarmed expression, while Mercutio slowly reached out a hand towards Romeo.

"Mercutio, Valentine! What have you done now?"

The twins jumped and looked up with identical guilty faces as Benvolio stormed over. They started talking at the same time, Mercutio squirming and Valentine gesticulating wildly, but quickly shut up at Benvolio’s dark look. Silently they watched as Benvolio hugged his crying cousin and comfort him. Several awkward minutes passed before Romeo stopped crying and was only sniffing in Benvolio’s arms.

"Now. Tell me, one at a time, what you did." Benvolio’s tone didn’t allow for any excuses, and Valentine glanced at Mercutio who glared back at him. "Someone, talk. Mercutio."

Mercutio sighed and drove his elbow into Valentine’s side, hard. Valentine stopped grinning and groaned instead. "We might have been… bored. And Romeo was just there, and we were all waiting, and Valentine started it!"

"Did not," Valentine muttered, but hunched behind Mercutio at Benvolio’s glower.

"We were just having a little fun, you know. Pretending to be each other. We didn’t think he’d actually cry. Sorry?" Mercutio tried a weak smile, which faltered quickly.

"Sometimes…" Benvolio growled and made a fist at them, while Romeo burrowed into his shirt. "You know better than to do that to him! He’s a child, and he’s easily affected by these games of yours."

"Am not," came almost unintelligible from Benvolio’s shirt. Benvolio patted Romeo’s head absent-mindedly.

"We’re sorry, okay? We were just trying to make the time go, that’s all. Didn’t mean to make him so upset." Valentine pouted over Mercutio’s shoulder. "Hey, hey, Romeo. If we buy you all that sweets we promised you, will you stop being sad? We can go buy it for you now."

"Really? You promise?" Romeo sniffed and looked up with big eyes.

"We pinky-swear," Mercutio said quickly and leaned forward with his raised hand. Romeo looked at him silently for a moment, then smiled wide and grabbed Mercutio’s little finger with his own.

"Pinky-swear! Now, time for candy." Romeo jumped from Benvolio’s arms and dragged Mercutio with him as he talked excitedly about what he wanted to buy. Mercutio looked back over his shoulder at Valentine with wide eyes, feeling like Romeo might have been the one to fool them after all.

 

\-----

 

As they had gotten older the twins’ lessons had become more demanding. When they were younger they had been clever enough to swap places and go to each other’s classes, since they had different subjects at different times. Mercutio had gone to Valentine’s swordsmanship lessons, and Valentine happily took Mercutio’s place studying history and politics. They had managed to keep up the deception for several years without any of their tutors being the wiser, until one unfortunate day shortly before their fifteenth birthday when the Prince decided to see how they were doing. On just that day Valentine was taking a test as Mercutio, and Mercutio was studying geography in another room, pretending to be Valentine.

After that day they were forced to take all their lessons together.

Even though he wasn’t thrilled about having to go to all his classes Valentine took it better than Mercutio, who spent most of the days sighing loudly and writing wistful poems about the outside world. Sometimes he was loud enough that even Valentine thought he was annoying, and those classes would usually end with the two of them running around the room, throwing anything they could grab at each other, and ignoring the terrified teacher. Somehow it was always during the history lessons that happened.

That morning, however, Mercutio was still and quiet, and it almost seemed like he was listening. Valentine could clearly see how every word passed him by, but even so he was curious about what his brother was up to. When their teacher was busy talking about some long dead king Valentine nudged Mercutio and raised his eyebrows in question.

Mercutio wiggled his own and winked. "Wait and see," he whispered.

Valentine smirked, his own expectations rising, but bent down and pretended to be furiously scribbling on his papers when the teacher turned towards them again. Mercutio was the very image of innocence. This teacher was a new one, and he only smiled quickly at Mercutio—when any person used to the twins would look for the door—and turned to his notes.

As he took a pause in his lecturing to read in his notes Valentine looked up, and a very light movement caught his eye. On the table next to their teacher's books and papers there was a big apple, and when Valentine stared at it he could see it move. Just a little, but it was enough. He turned to Mercutio with wide eyes, but only received another smirk and wink. _Wait and see._

To say that Valentine had problem focusing on the lesson after that was an understatement. He did desperately try to keep his eyes from wandering over to the apple, which was moving more and more as the minutes passed, and he just couldn't believe how their teacher didn't notice it. The man was completely focused on this dead king and his legacy, sure, but it felt like the apple was going to topple over any minute. Even Mercutio had lost his smirk, and looked like he wanted to hit his head against his desk.

It was obvious that something had to be done.

Valentine jumped up from his seat, his eyes as wide and frightened as he could make them, and he pointed at the apple. "What is that? It's moving, but how? It can't be moving by itself!"

Mercutio immediately followed suit, scrambling out of his seat—Valentine was sure the way Mercutio almost fell over wasn't done on purpose, and he had to bite his lip from laughing—and looking as scared as anyone could. "I've heard about this, that there's a ghost haunting this room. Oh God above, I never thought it was true!"

Their teacher looked around, already terrified by their behavior, and just as his eyes stopped on the apple it twisted strongly and rolled to the side. He gave a shriek and dashed towards the door, ripping it open and disappearing out of sight, having completely forgotten the boys he left behind. Mercutio was shrieking too, but of laughter, and Valentine laughed as Mercutio collapsed on the floor in helpless giggling.

"I wonder if he'll ever come back," Valentine mused and sniggered.

Mercutio tried to calm himself, only bursting out in giggles every now and then. "I highly doubt it. Did you _see_ his face? I thought the dullard would never notice."

"He probably wouldn't have, without a little push from yours truly." Valentine bowed deeply to Mercutio's applause and whoops. He still hadn't gotten up from the floor, apparently content to stay down. "Thank you, thank you, you are too kind, too kind. Now, let's see what we have here." Valentine made his way over to peer curiously down at the still moving fruit, and he could hear Mercutio get up on his feet behind him.

"A trick i heard about some while back." Mercutio reached out and grabbed the apple, holding it close and showing Valentine the bottom, which he could see had been stitched together with fine thread. "You take a fruit and you cut off the bottom. Then you hollow it out and place some sort of larger bug—I chose a beetle—in it, and then you sew it back together. As long as no one looks closely it looks just like a normal fruit, or apple in this case, and then when the animal wakes up... the monk I overheard talking about it just laughed, and I knew I had to try it out." He giggled again and threw the apple to Valentine. "It worked better than I had thought it would. _His face_!"

Valentine grinned back at him, then peeked down at the fruit in his hands. He might enjoy their history lessons, unlike Mercutio, but he couldn't say a small prank didn't liven up the day. It had definitely been worth it, and now with the teacher gone he could read his books without being disturbed.

An idea hit him and he squeezed the apple carefully. "You don't think this trick would work on Albricci?"

"Old Iron Fist? Never," Mercutio answered without hesitation. "You know what he thinks about superstitions."

"You're right." Valentine sighed and walked sadly back to his stool. "I'm supposed to do that maneuver he showed us last week tomorrow, and I know I won't make it. I just stumble over my feet every time and end up almost skewered by my own sword. He's going to yell at me so much." He laid his head on his desk and groaned long.

"Tomorrow I'm just going to practice as usual," Mercutio said thoughtfully. Valentine quieted and looked up, and when he saw Mercutio's smirk he felt his own move to match it. "Want to make a trade?"

"Anything you want, dear brother mine. Anything."

 

\-----

 

It was no secret that the Prince didn't enjoy balls, much less hosting ones, and he did as few as he could get away with. One circumstance that demanded a celebration each year was his nephews' birthday, however, and to most people's surprise he could actually be pleasant to be around on those evenings. Those balls were the one time a year when his sister and her husband made sure they could visit, and even if he disliked festivities the Prince loved his family, so he always ended up in high spirits.

So on the evening of the twins' seventeenth birthday the mood was festive and the palace was full of masked guests, as the twins had requested. The Prince, noticeable in a golden half-mask forced on him by his nephews, was sitting on a sofa talking and laughing with his sister, and there were guards making sure they were kept undisturbed. All the prominent families had been invited, although warnings had been issued to the heads of the Capulet and the Montague families that fighting would not be tolerated. In the two hours since the palace's doors were opened there hadn't been more than tense looks thrown across rooms, showing that the heads had spread the warnings through their families.

The tensions didn't bother the twins, who were happily moving amongst the guests. This evening every person was a target, even friends, as Benvolio discovered when he faced himself alone with the elderly Count Vitruvio droning on about his wine-fields, deserted in a quick moment by the grinning twins. It wasn't a conversation he could leave without causing great insult, and as he gritted his teeth he vowed he'd make the two of them pay. If he managed to survive the evening.

The feuding families hadn't been the only ones to receive a warning to behave, and the prince had forced Mercutio and Valentine to listen to a hour long lecture that very morning about what sort of behavior he would not tolerate from them. Many of the pranks they had been planning had been specifically mentioned and forbidden with a glare. One day they would figure out how he always knew what they did. One day. Until then they had to be satisfied with fooling around with the people, luring them into unwanted conversations or pretending to be each other. It never did get boring watching others try to figure out which twin they were talking with, after all.

For the evening the two of them had dressed in green, with black half masks decorated with golden details. The masks were made as two halves, which were supposed to make it easier to differentiate Mercutio and Valentine, but they only switched masks whenever they felt it had been long enough since the last switch. When he had seen them, half an hour earlier, their uncle had glared hard while their mother laughed until tears ran down her cheeks. They were the only ones who had seen through the switch.

At the moment Mercutio watched Valentine chattering happily with their latest victim a while away, a girl dressed in Capulet colors. She had no idea which of the prince's nephews she was talking to, judging by how the panic in her eyes mounted, and Mercutio only managed to keep down his laughter by drinking more wine. Valentine was known as the calmer of the two, the one who studied and knew more of the politics in the city, while Mercutio was known as the one who flirted with any, man or woman, and who knew all the gossip. For every careful question about politics Valentine had managed to give answers that were unspecific enough that Mercutio might have said it, and he had just laughed at the gossip. Even if Mercutio knew all there was to know, he didn't care the slightest. The girl couldn't possibly know who he was, and Mercutio knew she would never ask. Mercutio and Valentine had both worked hard on acting as hurt as they could whenever someone admitted to not being able to differentiate them, and the results were that no one who didn't know them well, and thereby knew they were fooling around, dared to ask which of the twins they were talking to.

It was the funniest deception Mercutio had ever made.

For his part Mercutio was half pretending to listen to some minor noblewoman—he had forgotten her name the moment after hearing it—who was talking about her daughter and all her various qualities. The daughter in question, a girl around fourteen, stood next to her mother with such shame visible in every line of her body that Mercutio almost felt sorry for her. Her mother obviously didn't care which of the prince's nephews she talked to, only that he was a suitable match. Mercutio was really getting bored of it. It was lucky for her that she had managed to catch Mercutio, instead of Valentine though.  
  
Unlike Mercutio Valentine didn't bear a trace of longing for an intimate encounter with neither a man nor a woman, much less a marriage. It had been that way since before they could remember, and when Mercutio started noticing all the pretty boys and girls Valentine stayed uninterested. The fact that he didn't want to partake in any sexual activities, then or ever, would have been considered too strange for their uncle to accept. They were his heirs, they both had to marry one day, after all. It was a helpful and useful distraction that Mercutio seemed to have received both his own and his brother's libido; their uncle had no time to wonder about Valentine's non-existent love life if he was forced to deal with Mercutio's far more often than he liked. Valentine still felt the pressure, though, Mercutio knew that so well, and he did not appreciate the reminders of what he might one day have to do.  
  
No, if the lady had cornered one of the twins for marriage talk it was far better it was Mercutio; Valentine would have rebuked her in a much harsher way than anything Mercutio would come up with.

"My dear lady, it sure seems like you have brought up a most wonderful daughter. I applaud and admire your efforts, as I'm sure it cannot have been easy to do, even for one so clearly capable." Mercutio smiled, and he saw the woman try to keep her blush under control. He knew exactly the effect that particular smile had, and adding to it the promise in his tone. It would be so much fun to see her pleased smile disappear. "It's especially admirable, considering all the time you spent with your dear friend, Signor Martino. I have heard you were very close in the years before your lovely daughter's birth and long after. As I understand it you have not seen each other in a few years now, though. It is so very tragic when a dear friendship falls apart, isn't it?"

The woman's face fell in much the same way as the relationship he had mentioned, and with pursed lips she excused herself and walked away with brisk steps, pulling her daughter behind her. The daughter clearly didn't know what he was talking about, and as she glanced one last time at him he winked with a grin. It was only a matter of time before she started searching for answers and found out about her mother's affair. It really hadn't been much of a secret, and neither was the possibility that the lord was unlikely to be her father.

Not that it had anything to do with him, Mercutio thought and sipped wine—the glass was almost empty, he had to get another soon. He was personally of the opinion that it was much better to know the truth, no matter how hard it might be to hear. The girl would find out about her mother, and she would be saddened, and then she would know the truth about people: that there isn't such a thing as someone without secrets. It was simply better to learn about it early in life.

No longer bothered Mercutio surveyed the room. Valentine was still amusing himself with the Capulet girl, and if Mercutio pulled him away he would surely be sour the rest of the night. Out of the two of them Valentine was by far the better at holding grudges, and interrupting in his fun was a sure way to get on his bad side. Even Mercutio was no exception to this rule, a fact of which he had loudly complained many times. No, it was best to leave Valentine to his own devices.

Benvolio was still forcibly holding old Vitruvio company, something that made Mercutio laugh into his glass as he quickly turned the other way, and Romeo was by his mother's side with a dreaming expression on his side. Most likely he had found a new girl to place his affection on, so Mercutio steered his steps away from his direction too. He had heard enough of Romeo's longing sighs and awful poetry. It had been fun to tease him about it, but even Mercutio got tired of it after a while.

The moon was high in the sky, Mercutio saw as he passed a window, and he drank the last of his wine before placing it on a servant's tray. His vision might have been a little blurry, but it did nothing to stop him from finding the door leading to the gardens, and he was grinning as he stepped out into the peaceful darkness. It took less than a dozen steps before he left the light of the palace behind him, but he had wandered the gardens far too many times in the darkness to so much as stumble.

Just a few steps ahead of him there was someone not as used to the grounds, and Mercutio giggled as he heard a distinct male voice curse about stupid roots. He must have fallen over the roots of the tree Mercutio and Valentine had spent so much of their childhood climbing around in, and still did. There were many who had complained about the tree's existence, but the Prince had always refused to let it be cut down and removed. It was one thing Mercutio was grateful about, although he had never said it aloud.

It was almost as if his feet moved by themselves, but Mercutio found he didn't mind walking towards whoever had tripped. He hadn't really had any specific plans when he came out into the gardens, so why not greet this new-found companion? If nothing else he could always find out who it was so he could tell Valentine about it later that evening.

By the time he had made his way over the other person had managed to stand up and was dusting off himself. Mercutio leaned against the tree with a small smile and waited to be noticed. The other person didn't look his way, however, and Mercutio cleared his throat once he had decided he was bored enough. It was worth it to see the man jump. Too bad it was too dark to actually see the other man's face.

"Beautiful night, isn't it? Can I take it you came out here, all by yourself, to meet someone? Perhaps a dear someone?" Mercutio chuckled. "If you are I wouldn't suggest this spot. It's far too easy to be discovered here."

"No! No, I just wanted to- to take a walk. Clear my head. Alone."

The other person had a very pleasant voice, Mercutio thought, and it was oddly familiar. Then again, he had spent hours walking around and talking with people, so that came as no surprise. His smile widened. "It's a shame your walk was hindered. However, I hope you won't mind your solitude being intruded upon. I _am_ terribly flattered that you fell so hard for me."

"Huh? What are you saying? I didn't- oh." The man closed his mouth, finally understanding the meaning in Mercutio's words. It seemed he had had quite a lot to drink too, but Mercutio didn't mind. He was so comfortably warm, and the man had such a nice voice. Mercutio wanted to hear more of it. He got his wish, as the man cleared his throat and took a step closer. "I think 'fell for' is too strong to say. But I don't think I mind your company. Maybe there was a reason you stumbled upon me right now."

Mercutio chuckled and studied the man. He seemed to be only slightly shorter than Mercutio, with a nice build from what the moonlight showed, and he was undoubtedly around Mercutio's own age. A mask was covering the upper half of his face, and Mercutio had the sudden impulse to reach out and grab it. There wasn't any real reason to though, and he would have to take a step forward just to be able to reach, so he ignored it. It was too much effort, and he was content precisely where he was.

"Maybe. You will have to come closer to find out though," Mercutio purred, and felt the blood come alive in his veins when the man did as told and stepped closer until they were standing almost toe to toe. Mercutio bit his lip. He liked to flirt with any person who caught his eye, but if anything physical happened it was always after more planning. Even if he played around a lot there were plenty of things to consider after all, and he had never actually let any unknown person get so close to him just like that. The man had such a nice, familiar voice, though, and for some reason it made Mercutio's guard drop. He was barely aware of reaching out and pulling the man closer, but all his senses focused when he felt lips touch his.

The kiss was soft and uncertain, but much sweeter than Mercutio was used to. He sighed contentedly and stroked his thumb across his partner's neck where his hand had ended up. After a few more seconds he pulled back with a small smile. "Why don't you get rid of that?" he asked and poked at the mask.

His partner snorted, sounding more bewildered than Mercutio had thought he'd be—he probably wasn't the type to go around kissing unknown men in dark gardens either—but then he reached up and pulled off his mask, and Mercutio choked on his air. No wonder he had found the voice to familiar, he thought half hysterically. He almost wanted to run away back into the palace and forget what had happened, but he was still so comfortable and warm, and his body didn't want to move.

" _Tybalt?_ This can’t be happening. Is this really happening?"

Tybalt looked confused, and Mercutio let out the laughter that was bubbling within him. Without a word he pulled off his own mask, and watched as Tybalt's eyes widened comically. He didn't move either, though, Mercutio noted. "Mercutio? It's- you are Mercutio, right? Only you flirt so shamelessly."

"'Shameless', that's rich coming from the one who so happily kissed me. Before even knowing who I was. You were the one who actually made the invite for something more than harmless flirting, don't mistake that." Mercutio's tone was hard, and his teeth shone as he bared them in a grin. "I might act however I want to, flirt with and kiss whoever I want—people know to expect nothing but the unexpected from me—but you? What would they say, the citizens of our beloved city, if they knew what the noble Tybalt Capulet does in the dark, away from prying eyes? _What would your family say?_ "

Tybalt bared his teeth as he growled and pushed Mercutio up against the tree again, but instead of saying or doing anything else he simply stared at Mercutio, who stared back. It wasn't clear who moved first, but suddenly their lips were on each other again, with far more fervor than before. Mercutio opened his mouth and bit at Tybalt's lip harshly before pushing his tongue into Tybalt's mouth. His hands were tangled in Tybalt's hair, pulling at and feeling the soft strands, while Tybalt was gripping his shoulders so hard he would surely have bruises later.

It didn't matter at the moment, not when all Mercutio could think of was the feeling of Tybalt, Tybalt's tongue against his, Tybalt's hair under his fingers, Tybalt's body pushing up against his. He had kissed plenty of people before, and done much more afterwards, but he had never before felt like he would happily go without air as long as he could simply keep on kissing the other person. Like he was so perfectly satisfied, and if he could only stay in that moment he would die happy.

"Cutio? That you?"

The moment was shattered, and Tybalt jumped back with wide eyes. Mercutio stared at him with equal amounts of horror, and for a moment the only sound was their heavy breathing. Then footsteps came towards them, and Tybalt took off without a word, pulling his mask back over his face. Mercutio looked after him, and saw how he quickly moved past Valentine, almost pushing him into the ground by his speed alone. After regaining his balance Valentine kept walking in a sated pace until he came up to Mercutio, but he wore a very confused expression.

"Who was that and why was he running like his life depended on it?"

Mercutio shook his head and pushed past Valentine. He didn't say a word, only kept shaking his head as he walked back towards the palace. His thoughts were swirling in his head and he couldn't deal with anyone right then. Especially not Valentine.

"Cutio? What happened? Mercutio?"

Valentine's confusion was clear in his voice, but Mercutio refused to care. Instead he sped up, and even though the palace was still full of people he moved past them without hesitation. If anyone called out to him he didn't hear it, and he didn't stop until he had reached his bedroom and shut the door behind his back. He stayed still for a moment, just breathing, then he threw himself on his bed and pulled the covers over his head.

How could it have happened? Tybalt was a Capulet, an enemy to Benvolio and Romeo, and so an enemy to Mercutio. Why was the taste of him still clinging so stubbornly to Mercutio's lips? He barely needed to think back to remember the feeling of Tybalt pressing up against him, but before he could get overwhelmed he forced himself to think of something else. Like the feeling of his fist meeting Tybalt's face. That was a better sensation to remember. Much better.

When the door to his room opened what felt like hours later, but couldn't have been more than half an hour, and Valentine hesitantly asked if he was awake, Mercutio stayed silent. Valentine waited for several more minutes before closing the door and going to his own room, the one right next to Mercutio's, and the whole time Mercutio scrunched his eyes shut and thought 'I am asleep' over and over and over. As soon as the door closed again, however, he threw away the covers and sat up.

He needed air. Quickly, desperately. So he jumped out of his bed and walked over to his window, throwing it open and taking a deep breath. The moon was still high in the sky, and Mercutio felt his eyes drawn to its bright shape. His thoughts wandered to Tybalt again, but looking on the starlit sky he felt oddly peaceful and he didn't try to force his mind on other tracks. Instead he reached up with a hand and lightly touched his lips, thinking back to Tybalt's first, soft kiss. How soft Tybalt’s hair had been under his hands. The hunger in the kisses that followed, and how desperately Tybalt had clung to him.

He wanted more.

 

\-----

 

Even as the twins grew into proper adults their lessons didn't stop. It had taken more of a practical turn, though, and after their nineteenth birthday the Prince had decided they would accompany him instead of continuing their tutored lessons. That way they would be able to see how it really was to be Prince, and hopefully learn to use their knowledge.

It didn't take long to discover that they both had their strengths and weaknesses. Valentine was the one clearly more suited to take over after his uncle, what with his deep knowledge of Verona and her history along with his quickly developing sense for politics. Mercutio, however, knew the people they dealt with in a far different way than his brother, and where Valentine might forget about the individuals in favor of looking at the whole picture Mercutio kept a note on each and every person and their relationship to each other, as well as in what ways they might prove useful. It would be very useful if he'd only stop using his knowledge to direct the people around him as though they were pieces in a game only he played, the Prince lamented. Together they could rule Verona far better than either would do alone, and even better than he himself had.

There was one instance where the two completely switched roles, though, namely the Capulet and Montague families and their feud. As soon as any issue regarding them were brought to the Prince Valentine would argue harshly against the Capulet—no matter what the problem was about—while Mercutio kept a surprisingly clear and objective mind. It was one of the very few cases when the Prince didn't know what to think or expect of his nephews, and seeing them change so strongly from how they usually acted unnerved him enough that he told them to only observe. Thankfully the families brought their woes to the court rarely enough that he instead spent most of his time reining in Mercutio and putting a stop to his 'brilliant' plans.

Lately their uncle had begun letting Valentine take a more active part in solving the various problems brought to them, while trying to keep Mercutio from making them worse. It had caused Valentine to stay awake much later than usually as he tried to find the best solution for all parties involved. One night in particular he laid mulling over a disagreement regarding a piece of land that might blossom into a full-blown feud if not handled properly, and however he tried he couldn't relax. Not until he found a satisfying solution.

That was why he was awake and could be startled by the sudden thump coming from Mercutio's room, followed by low voices. In a flash Valentine was up from his bed and he rushed to the door in the wall. When Mercutio and Valentine had been told they’d have to get their own rooms, they had refused until their uncle promised to have a door connecting their rooms built, and Valentine didn’t even think of the door facing the hall. Right as he pressed down the door handle, however, he heard Mercutio laugh, and he froze.

"Shut up, you. It wasn’t funny." The male voice clearly didn’t belong to Mercutio, but it was oddly familiar. Where had he heard it before?

"But, Tybalt dearest, it _was_." Mercutio’s chuckle was relaxed, but Valentine felt like his world had turned upside down. Tybalt? _Tybalt Capulet?_ What was he doing in Mercutio’s room, and why did they sound so calm about it? "You would know that if you had seen your face. Maybe it isn’t such a good idea for us to meet here, since you somehow end up falling over everything. Remember that first night?"

At Tybalt’s groan Valentine found it in him to push the door open, just enough so he could look through it, and what he saw threw his mind into a frenzy. Mercutio was visible in the soft light from the lamp at his bedside table, sitting at the edge of his bed with a big smile. Tybalt was standing in front of him, and just the sight of him made Valentine grit his teeth.

"I remember. How could I forget? That damned tree… a person could kill themselves out there, you know." Tybalt shook his head, then crossed his arms. "Do you think your brother heard?"

Valentine stiffened, but Mercutio shook his head easily. "Nah. He’s asleep by this time, you know that. My diligent little baby brother, working so hard that he tires himself out so early and wastes a perfectly good evening. So stop worrying and get over here," he said with a smile as he leaned back.

Valentine didn’t know what to think—he refused to acknowledge the signs the whole situation pointed to, because there was no way, absolutely no reason at all, that Mercutio would do something like that. It had to be something else, an elaborate prank of some kind. Mercutio did enjoy his pranks, after all, and the bigger the better.

Tybalt remained still with his arms crossed. "I don’t think so. We still need to talk about yesterday."

Mercutio groaned and flopped down on the bed. "You’re still mad about that? It was a fun idea, going to a party, nothing more. I know you don’t like Ben or Romeo, or any of the Montagues, but you have to get over it one day. What’s wrong with my trying to make it happen a little earlier?"

"He kissed Juliet! I saw them!" Valentine didn’t have the slightest idea what they were talking about, but he did remember something about the Capulet holding a ball and Mercutio being gone most of the evening. Valentine had refused to go, of course.

"And you spent a long period of time before that kissing me, if I remember correctly." Valentine could just as well hear how Mercutio rolled his eyes, and normally he would have grinned at it, but not there and then. His stomach had frozen to ice and he was finding it hard to breathe, because just like that, with such careless words, Mercutio had taken his desperate hope and crushed it beneath his uncaring heel. "Leave them be. If Romeo and young Juliet have fallen for each other, then let them be happy. As I understood it she was just as smitten as Romeo. Anyway, isn’t it great? If Romeo and Juliet marry, then that could finally end that senseless feud of yours."

"Stop it! Juliet is young, she doesn’t know what she wants or feel, and that damn Montague could easily manipulate her into doing whatever he wants. I know about all the girls he has bedded and left, do you really believe I will let him do that to my cousin too? Besides—" Tybalt’s voice turned even darker than before, but more resigned. Valentine wanted to rip out his throat. "—she is to marry your cousin Paris. My uncle has more or less accepted the proposal. If it gets out that that damned cur laid his hands on Juliet her reputation will be ruined. She will be ruined!"

Mercutio stood up from the bed and pulled Tybalt close. Valentine was relieved that he couldn’t see their faces, but the proximity of them made his fists tighten. "Stop. Worrying. And stop insulting my friend, unless you want to get thrown out of here head-first." His voice was hard, and Valentine dared to hope maybe Mercutio would regain his sense, but then Mercutio sighed and when he spoke again it was much softer. He didn’t speak to anyone except Valentine in that tone, and the flame burned hot in Valentine’s stomach. "I promise you, there’s no need to worry. Romeo would never hurt any girl he has fallen in love with, and if need be—if something happens—then I swear I will make him take responsibility and marry her. He’s a kind soul, and he would love her and treat her as his most precious person for the rest of their lives."

"If he touches her again I will kill him," Tybalt muttered, but just as Valentine was about to jump out and issue a challenge Mercutio snorted and lightly slapped the back of Tybalt’s head.

"If you try to kill Romeo I will have to kill you, you know that. And we both know that I can handle a sword better than you can."

"Oh, really? I think you need to prove it." Valentine could hear the smile in Tybalt’s voice, and the flame in his stomach fed on his disgust. How dared he talk to Mercutio that way? And why did Mercutio only chuckle? How could he just allow it?

When Tybalt leaned forward to kiss Mercutio Valentine took a step back with closed eyes. He didn’t want to see, he didn’t want to hear. If he closed his eyes he might be able to pretend nothing was happening. It didn’t work, of course, and he only heard the sighs and moans clearer. As he slid down the wall next to the door he pressed his hands over his ears, and cursed the whole situation. He couldn’t close the door and forget what happened, but he couldn’t storm into the other room either. Even as angry as he was he couldn’t handle the thought of interrogating Mercutio, especially not with Tybalt there.

The moans only grew louder and more insistent from then on, and Valentine despaired. He felt like he wanted to cry, but he also wanted to scream and throw things, and he wanted to empty his stomach. Most of all he wanted to gut Tybalt and see him bleed. It was _his_ brother moaning Tybalt’s name. A filthy Capulet.

Part of Valentine wanted to believe that Mercutio was tricked, manipulated or seduced, into bed. Maybe Tybalt had something on Mercutio to make him do what he wanted? It would have been so much better if Mercutio didn’t actually _want_ it. Valentine knew his brother too well to honestly believe in those ideas more than a few moments, though. No matter what Tybalt might have said or done Mercutio would never have let him do something he didn’t want himself, and there wasn’t anything Mercutio cared about enough to keep secret.

Or at least that was what Valentine had thought.

He gritted his teeth and tried to keep his rage under control as his anger turned towards Mercutio. They had always stood by each other, as far back as either could remember, and they had always told each other everything. There had never been a secret between them. Mercutio had told Valentine when he had given Benvolio his first kiss, and he enjoyed torturing Valentine with all the details of his sexual exploits. Valentine had for his part discussed his non-existent attraction to any person, male or female, and his worries about what it meant. He was expected to marry and produce a child someday, after all, but how could he do that if the thought of any sexual act filled him with distaste? Mercutio had spent many hours talking it over with him, and had done his best to convince Valentine he wasn’t broken.

Where had that honesty gone? They had always been two halves of a whole, and now Valentine discovered that Mercutio had kept such a big secret from him? A Capulet, the enemy of their close friends, their enemy, and not only that, a person they had fought with tooth and nail for years, who had mocked and insulted them at every turn. He had talked about killing Romeo, and yet Mercutio not only let it be, he even-

The thought was too much for Valentine, and he forced himself to focus on something else before the fire inside him made him do something he would regret. The land disagreement. It would have to do. He had already begun forming a plan of action, and it wouldn’t be too hard to remember where in the planning he had been.

With his hands tightly over his ears, his eyes focused on the floor, and his mind stubbornly on the dispute time passed, although not as quickly as he wanted it to. As hard as he tried he couldn’t completely block out the noises, and when it finally went quiet he slowly lowered his hands.

Mercutio laughed breathlessly and said something, too quiet for Valentine to hear, and Tybalt chuckled in response. It made Valentine’s stomach churn, and he pictured himself grabbing his dagger and slitting Tybalt’s throat. It couldn’t be that hard, with Tybalt being naked and unarmed. He didn’t notice how hard he tightened his fist until he felt his nails go through the skin; it didn’t warrant more than a moment of his attention, though, as he focused on listening to the other two.

"Why does that damned feud of yours have to exist? If it hadn’t been for that we wouldn’t have fought, and you could stay here all night." Mercutio sighed. "I almost want to ask you to stay either way. Screw all those who might object!"

Tybalt’s answer was spoken in a soft voice that made Valentine want to scream. "I would do it if you asked me to, you know that. We agreed from the beginning no one could know, but I swear on my life, if you ask me to stay I will."

Mercutio laughed harshly, and Valentine could almost picture the bitter grin. "You’re a fool. So am I, I suppose, since I am actually considering it. We can’t let anyone find out about us. Not yet, and definitely not by a servant walking in to wake me up. The consequences would be…" Valentine heard Mercutio’s deep sigh, and for a moment his heart ached for his brother. He sounded miserable, and Valentine only wanted to hug him close and comfort him. Then he remembered that Tybalt was most likely doing that, and his rage returned. "Why do you always have to make it harder for me by letting your temper get away with you? You’re like a bull trained to run berserk at the sight of Montague colors."

"Not a flattering comparison, but I suppose I can’t protest." Tybalt was silent for a long time then, and when he spoke again he sounded so hesitant that Valentine felt himself sneer. "Maybe we can tell someone, someone who might understand and help? What about your brother?"

At that Valentine couldn’t help but turn towards the door, a small sense of _something_ rising in his chest. He needed to hear what his brother would say. He didn’t know what he’d do or say whatever Mercutio might answer, but he needed to know.

"No." The word was spoken without hesitation, and Valentine blinked as he leaned heavily against the wall again. "Out of all the people, Val is the one we definitely can’t tell. I would sooner tell Benvolio or Romeo, because at least they aren’t filled with hatred towards your family the same way that Val is. It’s- he hates you Capulets more than any Montague I have spoken to. If he found out I’m sure he would stop at nothing until he saw your dead body at his feet."

"A lovely image," Tybalt said with a dry tone. Valentine agreed, but he actually did mean it. It was a very lovely image to picture.

"Don’t laugh. It’s not a game, Tybalt. I don’t want you to fight my brother, because if you did either of you would end up dead, and I love you both too much to let that happen."

"Alright, don’t worry. I know it’s not a game, although it is strange to hear those words come out of your mouth. We won’t tell your brother."

"Good." Mercutio sighed and Valentine could hear the movements. "Well, isn’t this shirt nice? Such a rich color, and the quality of the fabric... I might have to keep it. It’s too dark to find my own clothes anyway."

"You have a whole wardrobe to pick from, leave your greedy hands off of mine."

Mercutio laughed, and by the sound of it they began kissing again. Valentine was too deep in thoughts to pay much attention. A couple of minutes later Tybalt spoke again, and Valentine focused.

"Try not to hatch any insane plots until the next time we can meet, okay?"

"My plans are influenced by nothing but genius and I object to hearing you slander them."

Tybalt chuckled, and Valentine could hear two sets of steps moving towards Mercutio’s window. Finally that _filth_ would be leaving. "My deepest apologies. I will make sure not to speak badly of them again, lest I bring your wrath upon me."

"Make sure you do."

Valentine rolled his eyes as Mercutio and Tybalt chuckled, but he closed his eyes with a long sigh as he heard the window open and someone climb through. He didn’t stand up immediately, just took his time and collected his thoughts. There was no need to hurry, and with that damned person finally gone he could speak to Mercutio directly.

The ache that ran through his whole body as he stood up told Valentine that he had been sitting down much longer than he had thought. It hadn’t felt like more than half an hour, maybe a whole, but he ached as badly as he did when he had spent hours sitting bent in an uncomfortable position over a book. He couldn’t say it raised his mood, and he was already glaring when he walked through the door into Mercutio’s room.

Mercutio was leaning against the windowsill, thankfully enough dressed, and normally Valentine would have laughed at the way he froze when he turned around and saw that he wasn’t alone. "Val… I- I didn’t think you were awake."

"I know. I heard you tell your guest." Valentine watched as Mercutio swallowed and looked away, clearly searching his mind for some way to get out of the situation. Valentine wouldn’t let him and crossed his arms. "I know, Mercutio. I heard him enter your room, and I heard him leave. I heard everything."

Mercutio was silent for a moment, then raised his chin with a defiant expression. "So?"

Valentine opened his mouth, then stopped himself and took a deep breath instead. When he talked he managed to keep his voice at a normal level. "So you’re sleeping with Tybalt Capulet, who you are very aware of is an enemy of us and our friends. Tell me, how long have you been fucking him?"

"Almost two years now."

Mercutio kept his defiant look while Valentine burst out laughing. "Two years? _Two years_? You have been sneaking behind everyone’s backs, behind my back, for two years?" It was hard to get the words out, as the hysterical laughter kept bubbling up inside him. Mercutio looked darkly at him.

"I did it because I had to. You, who know the politics of this town better than me, knows fully well why. That damned feud, always ruining everything. If Tybalt and I hadn’t kept it secret the Capulets and Montagues would have been at each other’s throats more than ever, trying to recover the balance. They would destroy the city in their lust for power."

"Then why did you decide to fuck him in the first place?" Valentine kept his face and voice calm, but inside he wanted nothing more than to scream and shout. "You might throw the whole city into turmoil if it gets spread. Is he really that good a fuck? Is he really worth the consequences, because sooner or later it will come into the light? You know it, I know it. Why, Mercutio? Is it because you began something and you’re too stubborn to end it? You’re used to getting what you want, and now you don’t want to let go of him, even if it might destroy us all? Are you that selfish? Or is this just another of your twisted games?"

Mercutio opened his mouth but hesitated. Valentine gritted his teeth and dug his fingers into his arms so he wouldn’t be tempted to do something violent. "Spit it out."

"Fine! I love him. That's it, that's the big secret. Yes, I'm selfish and I won't let him go because I love him, you asshole!"

"No. No! Shut up, I won’t hear it!" Valentine marched up to Mercutio and shook him hard. "You don’t know what you’re saying. I know you like having sex, and I know how you love to create chaos, but this is taking it too far, Mercutio. For once in your life stop messing around and think of the people around you!"

Mercutio looked hurt for a moment, but then his face twisted and he pushed Valentine back hard. "Fuck you."

Valentine frowned as Mercutio turned around to face the window. "What are you doing? Where are you going?"

"Out. Not that it’s any of your damned business," Mercutio growled and gripped the windowsill. Before he could climb over, however, Valentine ran forward and pulled him back. Mercutio shook him off with enough force to make him fall to the floor, and for a moment the two of them stared at each other in shock.

"You’re supposed to meet Benvolio tomorrow while I meet with the Mantuan ambassador, aren’t you? You know, your _friend_. If _Tybalt_ hasn’t made you forget all about him." Valentine spit the name with all the disgust he felt, and Mercutio’s face darkened again.

"If you care so much about what I do or don’t do, then why don’t you go in my place? It’s not like anyone would see the difference, and maybe you could actually pretend someone likes being around you for once."

Valentine jumped up to his feet, ready to fight Mercutio, but he had already jumped out through the window. Mercutio had always loved climbing, and he could scale the palace walls with the same ease someone walked up a flight of stairs. When Valentine reached the window and looked down Mercutio had already reached the ground, and without a look behind him he dashed away into the darkness.

Valentine slammed the window shut and turned around. His eyes caught on a certain shape on the messy desk over by the wall, and he lifted it up to look at it closer. It was a poetry book, one of the few that Mercutio owned. Valentine remembered when he had bought it for Mercutio as a surprise gift, back when they were twelve years old. The pristine condition told a clear story of a well-loved item.

The feeling of ripping out page after page wasn’t quite as satisfying as punching Tybalt would have felt, but it was close, and Valentine imagined how Mercutio would look when he came back to find the pieces with dark gratification. Valentine wouldn’t burn the pages; he would just leave the whole mess lying openly on the floor. It wasn’t like he cared anymore.

Even if he tried not to think of it too deeply Mercutio’s last words still rang through Valentine’s head, and he thought of Benvolio with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. It had only been words thrown at him with the intent of hurting him. Benvolio and Romeo were just as much his friends as they were Mercutio’s, and just as dear, even if he didn’t spend as much time with them anymore. True, he had gotten more and more drawn into the duties of a Prince’s heir, but they still liked him, they still loved him. Didn’t they?

Valentine eyed Mercutio’s wardrobe and thought. It had been a long time since they had made a switch, and the business with the ambassador wasn’t really that important. Even if he disappeared for a day he would only receive a small lecture. Maybe it was time he spent some time with Benvolio, try to forget about Mercutio and his affairs that would only end badly anyway. It had been a long time, after all.

 

\-----

 

Mercutio awoke with a groan, clutching his head as he sat up in the bed. The sun was shining in through the window, and even though it hurt he forced himself to keep his eyes open. He had been carried into one of the backrooms by the bar owner, he discovered, and when he found the man he paid him generously as thanks. Declining the offer of breakfast—the thought made his stomach turn uneasily—he made his way out of the tavern. It felt like someone was drumming against his brain, he was wearing the same clothes as the day before, and he had somehow found himself far from the palace. All in all, a better start of the day than he'd expected, and he began the long trip home, where he would drop into his own comfortable bed and sleep the whole day.

He could have his eyes open almost without pain when he noticed a commotion to the side, and a bunch of people having gathered. Curiosity took over, as it was wont do to, and Mercutio gingerly made his way over. It felt like his breath was ripped from his chest when he saw what was going on; Tybalt and Valentine, dressed in Mercutio's own clothes, were fighting each other, while Romeo followed them and tried to make them break up. For a second Mercutio wondered if he was still dreaming, because why would Valentine willingly take up a sword against Tybalt of all people? He had to know that he had no chance of winning.

Then the words from the evening before came to his mind, and he remembered the hatred in Valentine's eyes as he spit out Tybalt's name. It was Mercutio's fault, then. Dread welled up inside him and he swallowed back bile. He had to stop them, quickly, before something happened.

Mercutio pushed past the first person and opened his mouth to yell at the combatants to stop when it happened. From where he stood on the side Mercutio could clearly see Romeo get between Tybalt and Valentine, hindering Valentine from bringing down his sword. He could also, just as clearly, see how Tybalt's sword uninterrupted completed its route and stabbed into Valentine's chest.

"Valentine!"

He didn't realize the scream had come from him until all eyes turned towards him, but suddenly no one stood in his way and he didn't care. All he could think about was his brother—looking at him with a mixture of happiness, fear, relief, guilt, and pain all at once—and the throbbing in his chest. They did say twins had an unnatural link, and a part of Mercutio's mind wondered exactly how far this link would go. When the final breath of life left Valentine, would he also die?

"Val? But he said- I thought-" Benvolio, sweet, dear Benvolio, looked between them with furrowed brow as he put together what had happened. Then he took a closer look at Valentine, and seemed to see what Mercutio had both seen and felt. "You're hurt."

"It's nothing, just a small wound," Valentine said with forced cheer. When he tried to take a step, however, his knees bent and Mercutio only barely managed to catch him. Mercutio slowly kneeled to the ground, with his brother in his arms. Valentine swallowed hard and looked up at Mercutio with a grin that hurt to look at, but his words were still directed to Benvolio "Mind you, it will be more than enough. If you call for me tomorrow, you shall find me a grave man indeed."

"Hush, Val, save your breath," Mercutio muttered and clutched Valentine tighter. "Someone call for a surgeon. A surgeon, now!" He glared hard at all those who stood around them, and several boys turned and ran in various directions. To get a surgeon, he prayed.

"Romeo." Valentine was breathing hard, but his glare was as strong as ever. Mercutio looked up at Romeo, who was standing next to Benvolio with a shocked expression. Behind him Tybalt stood, just as shocked and even more horrified, but Mercutio couldn't find it in him to worry about his lover right then, not with his broken brother in his arms. "Romeo, you fool. You're always so clumsy, why did you have to get in our way? I was hurt beneath your arm."

"I- I didn’t-" Romeo backed away, looking close to tears, but Mercutio couldn't find it in him to care about him either. Valentine couldn't hold back the pain any more, and he was clutching Mercutio's hand while he scrunched his eyes shut.

"It's okay, you will be okay. You'll see. You'll be okay," Mercutio muttering as he pressed his cheek against Valentine's hair. Where was that damn surgeon? "Save your breath. You'll be fine."

"I won't. It's the end of me," Valentine said and his smile was the most horrifying thing Mercutio had ever had to look at. "A curse on both of your houses! This damn feud has taken my life. Hah!"

"Val, please, don't speak anymore." Mercutio's hands were shaking, but he didn't notice. Why wasn't the surgeon there?

"Cutio. Yesterday, what I said..." Valentine gasped and could barely get out his words. The red spot on his—on Mercutio's—clothes was only getting bigger and bigger. "I didn't-"

"I know, I know. I knew it then already, even if I stormed away." Mercutio gave a shaky smile. "There is nothing to forgive, and there never was. I’m sorry too."

Valentine echoed the smile and reached out one hand to weakly brush against Mercutio's cheek. "Thank you. I love y-"

The hand fell from his cheek, and Mercutio stared down at Valentine, waiting for the last word. Already knowing it would never come. A moment passed, then another, and Mercutio tried to think of something, feel something other than the gaping emptiness in his chest.

"Mercutio..." Benvolio's voice was quiet, and sympathetic, and _pitying_ , and hearing it finally broke him.

The scream sounded like nothing from a human throat, but Mercutio couldn't make himself stop. He clutched Valentine's still, unseeing body to his chest, and screamed. The tears were streaming down his cheeks, and he was soon out of breath, but when his voice disappeared he only let down enough air into his lungs that he could start again. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware of Benvolio sitting on his knees on the other side of Valentine, Romeo falling to his knees, Tybalt coming closer despite people trying to drag him away.

Nothing mattered.

When he couldn't scream anymore he bent down over Valentine and cried instead, hard sobs that wrecked through his body. He didn't hear nor see when Tybalt stepped up to them, reaching out and weakly saying, "Mercutio." He heard, however, when Romeo yelled Tybalt's name in fury, and he looked up just as Romeo stabbed his dagger into Tybalt, over and over again.

There was no more energy in Mercutio to scream, and he could only stare, rocking to and fro with Valentine in his arms as Tybalt fell to the ground. His brother. His lover. The two people he had known he would share his life with. Both dead on the same day, only minutes apart. His fault. His, his, his.

Tears were still running down his cheeks, and he clutched Valentine closer. It was just a bad dream, a nightmare that he would soon awaken from. It had to be. Nothing so cruel could be allowed to happen in real life.

Mercutio wasn't aware of what happened after that. To him it could have been five minutes or it could have been five hours. His uncle arrived, sometime after Mercutio had stopped crying. There was nothing left in him, not even tears. He wouldn't let go of Valentine, and he only stared blankly ahead, even when his uncle kneeled before him and tried to get his attention. Benvolio had stepped away, standing at the side with his arm around Romeo's shoulder. Mercutio hadn't been aware of him moving.

His uncle gave him a long look, one that Mercutio couldn't decipher—not that he had enough energy in him to try and understand it—then he became the Prince again. Although Mercutio could hear his booming voice, so angry but somehow calm, he couldn't focus enough to actually hear what was being said. He could hear Benvolio talk, and he heard Tybalt's name being mentioned, then Valentine's and Romeo's, and his own. His uncle said something and a woman cried out.

People started moving soon after that, and in the corner of his eye Mercutio saw how Tybalt's body was surrounded. If he had only been able to move he might have jumped up to stop them, but instead he looked down on Valentine. His empty eyes—exactly the same as his own—stared back at him, empty and cold. Mercutio tried to look for something, some hint of mischief, of knowledge, of anger, of something that made the eyes Valentine's. There was nothing.

Someone put their hands on his shoulders. Mercutio shook them off, and pretended not to notice when his uncle kneeled next to him and gently closed Valentine's eyes. A shiver passed through Mercutio, and a small flame of anger lit up inside him. How dared he touch Valentine, shut him away like that? If Valentine's eyes were closed then he wouldn't be able to see anything. He wouldn't be able to come back, and it would all be their uncle's fault!

The anger disappeared as quickly as it had come when he realized how silly his thoughts were. Valentine wouldn't come back. He would never come back.

His uncle said something and gently placed his hands on Mercutio's. It took some time but he managed to pry Mercutio's fingers from their iron grip on Valentine, and he nodded. A couple of servants carefully moved closer and lifted Valentine, and if it hadn't been for his uncle's hands on his shoulders Mercutio would have ripped them both to pieces for daring to touch his brother. Instead he just sat there and stared at his hands. They were covered in red, halfway up to his elbows. The front of his shirt was just as drenched, although it was much harder to see with the dark fabric. Completely different from the white shirt Valentine had worn. At least it had been white, Mercutio thought, and he might have laughed at that. Valentine would have laughed.

Eventually his uncle had decided they needed to move, apparently, because he stood up and tried to coax Mercutio to stand as well. At first Mercutio didn't comprehend what he was supposed to do, and when he did understand he found that he couldn't move his body. Instead, without the support of his uncle beside him, he fell to the ground in a heap. The thought to just close his eyes and lie there until his breath left him, like life had left Valentine, was too tempting to resist, but he was the only one who thought so. Two guards helped pull him upright, and with his arms around their shoulders they carefully helped him move forward. After a few steps he managed to move his feet, instead of simply letting them drag behind him, but he couldn't actually put any strength in them. The walk back to the palace felt like it took forever, and Mercutio couldn't stop wishing they had left him lying on the ground.

Once they walked through the palace doors servants came running, and the two guards carrying him were replaced by two of the household servants. Closely followed by his uncle they helped him to his room where they gingerly put him on his bed, helped him undress, washed him, and then dressed him in new clothes that didn't have so much as a spot of red on them. Even though they had taken care to wipe his hands, his arms, every part of his body that had been colored red, Mercutio still saw the red. It was everywhere.

Somehow he was put to bed, but even though the servants disappeared he wouldn't be left completely alone. His uncle sat on the bed and for a long time there was only silence. If Mercutio could decide it would have stayed that way; if he could decide he wouldn't be lying in his own soft bed while Valentine and Tybalt were who knows where. As the day so far had proved it didn't matter what Mercutio wanted, though. His uncle opened his mouth and talked in a low, hesitant voice, but what he said was beyond Mercutio, who didn't hear one word. He could only hear Valentine's last rasp, the gurgle Tybalt made as he was pierced again and again by Romeo's dagger. Words didn't mean a thing to him, and they hadn't since he had heard Tybalt's body hitting the ground.

Again there was no possibility for Mercutio to know how long time had passed, but it did seem to him that the sky outside his window was slightly darker when his uncle finally stopped talking and stayed silent. His hand was warm and comfortable on top of Mercutio's, but it was like the warmth didn't reach him. Even tucked in his bed, dressed in warm clothes, Mercutio was cold. He suspected he would never be warm again; the warmth in him had disappeared with Tybalt. Tybalt, who just the evening before had lied next to him, right there in the bed. If only he had insisted he stayed the night, just that once. If only he hadn't gotten so angry at Valentine and stormed out, thereby letting Valentine pretend to be him and challenge Tybalt.

It was no one's fault but his. If he hadn't acted as he had they would still be alive. He could have stopped it. He should have stopped it.

Eventually it seemed to be enough for his uncle, and he stood up to look down on Mercutio. Mercutio was deep in his thoughts and didn't notice the movements, nor did he notice the gentle kiss on his forehead, like those his mother had given him when he and Valentine were small. He didn't notice his uncle leaving the room or how the sky outside darkened.

The following day was much the same, and Mercutio was just as caught up in his thoughts as the day before that he didn't notice the people coming to check on him. He hadn't slept so much as a minute, but somehow he wasn't tired. Even though more than a day had passed since his last meal he didn't feel any inkling of hunger either—the food brought to his room was collected untouched—and he didn't feel the need to empty his bladder. It was as if his body had shut down at that place where his two other parts had died, even if he was still breathing and thinking. His uncle had come to him again, although he had simply sat silently for most of his visit. Mercutio hadn't looked at him.

In the darkness that night Mercutio stared up at the ceiling. In his mind he could see Valentine stare back, his usual mischievous smirk on his lips, and Tybalt, with the smile he had worn when they had kissed their last goodbye. It was almost peaceful, and Mercutio found himself smiling. Then the images changed. Valentine's blank face as he took his last breath. Tybalt's shocked face when he collapsed, like he still couldn't believe what had happened. Mercutio scrunched his eyes shut and rolled to his side, curling into a ball with a broken sob.

The agony felt like it was ripping up his chest, and if he could have screamed he would have. He was realizing, suddenly and with such clarity, that Valentine and Tybalt were dead. He had lost them and they would never come back to him. The knowledge that even if he lived to a hundred he would never find someone who could fill the emptiness inside of him struck him, and he sat up with a jerk. If he didn't do anything he would always have that hole in his chest and he would never be rid of that cold that chilled him to the bones. He could not live like that, he couldn't.

No one had thought to take his sword or dagger.

Mercutio smiled at the stray thought and moved out of his bed. His body was light and easy to move, as it had been in the days before everything had happened, and he only became surer that he was doing the right thing. What he was experiencing wasn't a bad dream, that much he knew. It was reality, and a reality that he could not live in. He would not, he refused to. Valentine and Tybalt had been such large parts of him that there was close to nothing left without them. How could he go on, just a fraction of a person?

There was no hesitation in his heart as he grabbed his dagger.


End file.
